Five nine weeks tests, a ten-page research paper on the years 1810-1819 in the U.S., and a report on the effects of methamphetamines on the body and mind, all within the next two weeks. I have nary a start on any of these things.
Fortunately, I've just found a
concise cultural history for my decade on the Internet. This'll make things a little easier.
Mallory and I went to a little nameless park behind the colonial cemetary yesterday. Despite its location in downtown Savannah, it was pleasantly devoid of people and cars. We have claimed it as our spot by carving our names into a picnic table with a butter knife we stole from the Six Pence Pub. Carving with a butter knife is hard. Should you and your signifcant other ever decide to carve your names, use car keys. I hear they work much better.